You held the same wrist

TW: Talks of self harm and suicidal ideation. 

Your hand touched the same wrist the sharp ends did 

You saw skin and I saw red, and even if you never knew it, 

That was your way of telling me that you see some life in me

When all I saw was a way out 

Of, well, all of this 

From holding my hand to cross the street, 

A high-five to share a moment of amusing triumph, 

Or a gentle grasp of both my palms to calm me down 

You held a hand, a quiet hand 

That bears quieter blisters that never dare whisper themselves to you

and I know you didn’t knew of them 

But my heart is warm for the reason that 

I never needed to tell you what I did 

For you to hold my hands in yours 

And tell me that you love me, because 

You did it anyway. 

I stopped wanting to sleep forever a while ago 

But when you hold my hands in yours, it makes me wonder

Whether staying awake, even past my bedtime is such a bad

thing. Picture credits: https://images.app.goo.gl/u5V5wyUk7cz7gYeP8